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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137651">Two Solitudes that Meet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/efficaceous/pseuds/NotHereNJ'>NotHereNJ (efficaceous)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>After Sex (2007), Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>After Sex AU, Blond Mickey, M/M, Mickey's first time!, No explicit Mickey/OMC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:15:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137651</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/efficaceous/pseuds/NotHereNJ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How did Mickey Milkovich have his first time with a guy? Turns out, After Sex (2007) nicely answers that question. All gifs from the film.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Two Solitudes that Meet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>(Present day)</em> </strong>
</p><p>Mickey was lying in bed with his husband, still a little breathless from their energetic fucking. The rest of the house was quiet, and he thought he could hear the TV from Kev and Vee’s bedroom through the open window. Ian was panting too, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, but he still threw an arm around his husband, pulling him into a sticky cuddle.</p><p> </p><p>“You ever think we’d end up here, man?”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean when you were chasing me through the Kash N Grab threatening to murder me, did I think we’d end up married? No, Mick, I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean- all the shit we went through, livin’ here. Hiding for so long. Now this.” He held up his left hand, letting the streetlight outside reflect off the gold band.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, I never imagined I’d get to fuck you even once, let alone all this.” Ian waved to encompass their shared room. “Never thought you’d come out for me, never thought you’d break out of jail, then turn yourself in for me. Never thought you’d wanna have a wedding, any of it. All I wanted was to get my dick wet and you just- fuck, Mick, you have exceeded all my earthly expectations and desires. So much.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey smacked his husband on the stomach with the back of hand, producing a little ‘oof’ sound. “Didn’t just come out for you. It was for me, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Someone told me somethin’ once, about the powerlessness of hidin’ who we are. How when we accepted it, we got some power back.”</p><p> </p><p>Ian rolled, propping his head on one hand. “Who was that? Actually, I’ve always wondered. You weren’t a virgin when we hooked up, so who got your cherry?” </p><p> </p><p>Before Mickey could comment, Ian amended, “Your gay cherry. I’m not talking about you banging chicks for cover. No one wants to hear about that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Would you believe I don’t remember?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not for a second.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, asshole. His name was William.”</p><p> </p><p>“William? Your first fuck was a guy named Bill? Ol’ billy boy?” </p><p> </p><p>Mickey elbowed Ian in the side. “Shut up. You wanna hear this, or not?”</p><p> </p><p>Ian mimed zipping his lips and tossing away the invisible key, settling in for the story.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>(Winter 2009)</em> </strong>
</p><p>Mickey sat on the end of the bed in the cheap motel, staring at the colorless carpet as William pulled up his fuckin’ jockey shorts. White fuckin’ jockey shorts, that’s where Mickey’s stupid ideas had brought him to.</p><p> </p><p>William sat next to him, and Mickey nervously slid further away, maintaining a healthy distance between them now. Alarmingly, the older man leaned in, acting like he was gonna kiss Mickey, maybe not his mouth but at least his cheek, and Mickey whipped away like the other guy was a hot poker, crossing his legs and squirming towards the headboard. </p><p> </p><p>“I'm not gay now, am I?” </p><p> </p><p>William leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees and sighed heavily. “I don't know. Did you like it?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Mickey quickly responded, without letting himself think. Of course he didn’t fuckin’ like that gay shit. </p><p> </p><p>“Then no, you're not gay. But at least now you're sure.”</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/0e11224dfee25454bcbe74635e821cae/tumblr_ml8lxlrXPq1qatuw0o1_250.gifv"> A quiet sigh of relief left Mickey’s lips </a>, he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t gay. There. Now he knew. That was the whole reason he’d come out tonight, found the club, let William pick him out of the herd of twinks. To find out for sure.</p><p> </p><p>“You sore?” William was staring at him with intense brown eyes. Mickey’d never seen such pretty brown eyes, normally brown eyes looked like cow shit. But with William’s darkly tanned skin, his eyes worked. Fuck, that was exactly what a gay guy would think, Mickey realized.</p><p> </p><p>“A little.” More than a little. He hadn’t bled; William had been pretty careful, but still. It hadn’t felt immediately good like a blowjob. That meant he wasn’t gay. </p><p>“It gets better,” William quickly offered, still watching him intensely.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Like that fuckin’ mattered. Not like Mickey was planning on testng this shitty theory out ever again. “Don't care.”</p><p> </p><p>William looked away, taking in the motel room’s yellowed walls and  broken TV. “Whatever. You know, you don't have to feel bad about this.”</p><p> </p><p>Yes, he fuckin’ well did. If anyone found out- it had never happened. That was the only way forward. This had never happened. “Bout what?”</p><p> </p><p>“About us having fun. There's nothing wrong with it.”</p><p> </p><p>Fun? This was what William called having fun? This was Mickey signing his own death warrant if Terry found out, not fucking fun. “I'm just-- I'm not gay, so--”</p><p> </p><p>“Just saying you don't have to feel bad about it. Everyone fools around at least once, whether they admit it or not. I can't tell you how many straight guys I've had this same conversation with.”’</p><p> </p><p>Great. Gay and a slut, just who Mickey needed in his life. “What conversation’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“The ‘talk you down from the ledge’ conversation.” William stood, picking up his jeans and working his belt loose from the slack material.</p><p> </p><p>“What ledge, man? The fuck’re you talking about?” Mickey was nervously chewing the edge of his nail, still sitting cross-legged on the bed in his dark boxer-briefs. This place wasn’t nice, it wasn’t good, but it was safer than home right now.</p><p> </p><p>“You Southside boys, you're all the same! All caught up in this bullshit machismo world that’s forced upon you, so you're afraid to have a sensitive side.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey’s instinctive denial was concise as he pulled one of the thin pillows to his stomach, holding it tightly. “Bullshit.”</p><p> </p><p>William wasn’t convinced, sitting down on the single chair in the room to pull on his tee. “Bullshit my ass. Right now, you're a jumper.”</p><p> </p><p>Nope, no way. Fuck that noise. “I so wish I knew what the fuck you were talking about right now.” <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/0928e36899375db2dbb4a09edb9ea768/tumblr_ml8lxlrXPq1qatuw0o2_250.gifv"> He rubbed his eyes </a>, wishing the guy would just shut up, fuck off, disappear.</p><p> </p><p>No such luck. “You're on the ledge ready to jump 'cause you can't deal with the fact that you liked having sex with a man.”</p><p> </p><p>Didn’t like that crap. Felt- felt weird. Too big and like he had to take a shit. </p><p>His mind helpfully supplied the few moments when William’s dick had brushed something inside him that felt like electric sparks of pleasure totally unrelated to his dick. No, no way. Mickey stood, starting to dress, ready to leave this asshole behind where he sat, gesticulating as he monologued at Mickey. </p><p> </p><p>“It's true. And then I come in and I give you this whole shtick about how ‘you're not really gay’ and ‘everyone does it at least once’.” William’s voice took on a mocking, strident tone. “And then eventually, you come back down off that ledge. But now you're still left with a hint of regret and guilt-”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Not just a fucking hint, college boy. More like a dark wave ready to drag him down and drown him. Mickey pulled out his pack of smokes and lighter from his pants, lighting up with barely trembling hands, in spite of the prominent No Smoking sign on the wall. </p><p> </p><p>“-and you push it deep down inside, and it's locked away, never to be mentioned again. Just a distant memory that you'll come to deny ever even happened. It's a cliche. The homophobic tough guy that loves it in the ass, but doesn't want anybody to know about it. Sad, really.” William walked into the adjoining bathroom, not bothering to shut the door as he pulled out his dick to piss.</p><p> </p><p>“That ain’t me, man,” Mickey insisted, working hard to keep William and his dick out of his line of sight. No one wanted to see that disgusting-ass shit. Certainly not him. </p><p> </p><p>“Whatever,” the nonchalant voice called from the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever.” Mickey echoed, replaying the other man’s words in his mind. “I'm not homophobic.”</p><p> </p><p>“You've got to be fuckin’ kidding me!” Stepping out of the bathroom, not having washed his hands, dirty fucker, William was in wide-eyed disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm not homophobic,” Mickey insisted. He lived with homophobes: he knew exactly what it looked like, and it wasn’t him. </p><p> </p><p>“Then why keep it a secret?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why indeed. Why was he here at all? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Because it's nobody's fucking business!” No one could know, not ever. This never happened, they’d never met, he was never even here.</p><p> </p><p>William laughed bitterly as Mickey pulled up his jeans, fumbling with the belt. “You think I can't read you? You're, like, the definition of homophobic. The mere thought of the possibility of you being gay scares you beyond belief.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey shook his head, negating the comment. “Nope. You're barking up the wrong fuckin’ tree.” He reached down to grab his shirt, flipping it right side out and giving it a shake. He held it in his hands, instead of pulling it on. William had wandered back into the room, and they stood, a mere step apart, facing each other in their loosely hanging pants and venomous words. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.” That mocking tone was back, snide, looking down at Mickey like he was uneducated trash. Uneducated didn’t mean fuckin’ stupid, though. The tone reminded him too much of Terry, of the way he came after Mickey with his fists and his words, just kept coming, until there was nothing to do but take it, take the beating and cruelty and the pain. </p><p> </p><p>But this <em> wasn’t </em> Terry. This was just some asshole queer he could take down in a minute. “What the fuck's your problem?” <br/><br/></p><p>“I'm not the one with the problem, boy!” <em> Boy </em>. More shades of Terry, through and through. Was it weird that the first only guy he fucked reminded him of his father? Some messed up psychological shit, right there. </p><p> </p><p>He got up in William’s face, <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/28308dab2ab37d3c14cb996ea869fc91/tumblr_ml8lxlrXPq1qatuw0o3_250.gifv"> shaking a finger at him menacingly </a>.  “Don't call me "boy," you fucking faggot!”</p><p> </p><p>Weirdly, William relaxed when he heard the slur drop from Mickey’s lips. “Well, there it is. I was waiting for it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey was confused by the lack of response. This wasn’t how this moment was supposed to go- William was supposed to cower, to submit. “Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“You just proved my entire point,” came the fuckin’ cocky reply. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey stepped up closer, trying to broaden his shoulders and intimidate William.  “'Cause I called you a faggot?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bingo.” But William held the tension, maintaining firm eye contact, and Mickey felt his insides want to quail and back away.</p><p> </p><p>He covered, blustering, “What the fuck does that mean, "bingo?"”</p><p>Finally, William turned away, eyes first, walking across the small room, leaving Mickey to step back as well, <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/5cc5ca9792a1ec99f0c03e2531deb2eb/tumblr_ml8lxlrXPq1qatuw0o4_250.gifv"> resting his ass </a> on the fake wood dresser, confused and angry. “You know what? I'm really tired, and I'm sick of having to explain everything to you. So if you don't mind, I'd rather you just leave. I wanna shower, you should be gone by the time I get out.” He pulled a dark tee shirt over his head, smoothing the fabric down over his abs with his hands.</p><p> </p><p>That was Mickey’s out, his excuse to the fuck out of there, leave college boy behind, forget his name, forget it had ever happened. But some force, curiosity maybe, held him.  “Why do you do it?” He knew William didn’t owe him an answer, didn’t owe him shit, but if he could just wrap his mind around this, maybe everything else would make sense too.</p><p> </p><p>There was a long pause, as Mickey chewed his lip and regretted- well, everything, basically. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, the response came. “What do you care?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just wanna know.” There was no big reason, no vast explanation to find, but Mickey knew if he left without an answer, the man would plague his mind until he ended up back in a similar situation, bent over for another man. Maybe if he knew <em> why </em>William did this shit, he could somehow change that part of himself that wanted it too. Cut it out, rip it off, until all that was left was Milkovich: straight, brutal, hard.</p><p> </p><p>William was messing with his phone, thumbing through some app or another, and he didn’t even look at Mickey. “You really want to know why?”</p><p> </p><p>The small, broken voice that answered couldn’t be Mickey’s own. “Yeah.” But it got William to turn, to <em> see </em>him again, somehow.</p><p> </p><p>“Power,” he answered simply, eyes still tracing up Mickey’s shirtless torso.</p><p> </p><p>“Power?” There was a definite quaver in his voice that Mickey hated himself for. Mickey understood power, but not like this. He understood taking things, using people, but this hadn’t- <em> fuck </em>, it hadn’t felt like he was being taken or used.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Power,” William repeated solemnly.</p><p> </p><p>“Elaborate,” Mickey asked, voice as soft as he could make it without losing his shit completely. The fact that he was being soft at all felt wrong, but this place, this time, he wasn’t himself here. What they said and did here, it didn’t count, it didn’t matter.</p><p> </p><p>William faced him, but didn’t come any closer, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. “My whole life, starting from grade school up until the point I came out of the closet, I was beaten up, ridiculed, made fun of, and completely alienated because of the way I was born-”</p><p> </p><p>That all made sense. Mickey'd been the one doing the beating and ridiculing, but he knew, somehow, that this could easily have been his story. Could still be his story, if he wasn’t very, very careful. </p><p> </p><p>“-because I'm attracted to guys. You can't fucking imagine how powerless this makes someone feel, how powerless I felt.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yes, he could. Didn’t have to imagine. Knew. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“All through high school, I had to hide who I was for fear of people finding out the truth. I even dated girls. I had sex with them just so that… people thought that I was straight, that I was...normal-”</p><p> </p><p>What Mickey wouldn’t give to be normal. On the inside, where it counted, where it was real. </p><p> </p><p>“-And it tore me up inside. To the point where…” William’s voice broke. “Never mind.”</p><p> </p><p>The man rubbed his head, trying to shake away the feelings and memories. Never worked, Mickey knew from experience. William walked over to the bed, began to pointlessly straighten the sheets and blankets, just giving his hands something to do so he didn’t have to look at Mickey or feel Mickey’s eyes on him.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” He needed to know it all, like there was a beating, pulsing question in Mickey’s deeply hidden heart that he would die if he didn’t have answered.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. Um… Forget it.” The asshole was <em> fluffing </em>the fucking pillows, which was both useless and dumb. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey tried another tack, but he couldn’t get the whole word out. “Plea- What?”</p><p> </p><p>Something about that broken plea must have affected William, because he put down the limp pillow and rounded, turning to face Mickey, eyes locked on the floor. “I tried to kill myself, all right? I tried to commit fucking suicide because… I couldn't deal with who I was. I was afraid of people finding out the truth about me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You serious?” Even as he asked, Mickey knew. He could already imagine himself in a similar situation, wanting to die, needing to die, because Terry had seen or heard something he shouldn’t. But to see this man, this dynamic, breathing human being before him, who- fuck it- was beautiful, and know that he could have died, because of what people <em> just like Mickey </em> had said or done to him? It was like a rockslide settled on his chest, and breathing was hard suddenly, the air thick and choking.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I hated myself for who I was. For who I am. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey couldn’t get any words out, that choking sensation blocking his airway.</p><p> </p><p>“Kinda pathetic, huh?” William had turned away again, now busy folding his leather jacket. </p><p> </p><p>The tightness in Mickey’s chest crested… and receded. He managed to get the words out. “No, man, it's not.” </p><p> </p><p>The pathetic one was him, so cowed by his fears of his father that he couldn’t even begin to develop his own identity. </p><p> </p><p>The older man circled the room, picking up the used condom off the floor and dropping it in the trash, grabbing the various cigarette butts Mickey’d left in the ashtray on the side table and dumping them into the trash as well. “Yeah, well, eventually… once I got to college, I wasn't too different from you, a tough guy. I-I joined a frat and drank lots of beer and made the usual homoerotic gay jokes.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey watched William as he cleaned up the room, studied how he moved, how he spoke. He wasn’t a swishy queen, like Mickey was afraid of becoming. He seemed like any other guy: if he hadn’t met him at a gay club, Mickey would never have known he was a fag. </p><p> </p><p>“Then I met a guy, and… He wasn't too different from you and me.” The room seemed to finally meet his standards, and William rested, leaning on the bureau beside Mickey, watching him as he told the story. Mickey stared at the pastel painting hanging crookedly on the opposite wall. </p><p> </p><p>“He helped me accept who I am. Just a regular person… just like everyone else. And it was kind of crazy because as soon as I made the decision to come out, that feeling of powerlessness just vanished.” The cell phone William had left on the bed beeped and he moved to stand at the end of the bed, looking down at the illuminated screen as he continued.  “Granted, I still have to deal with my family and friends, but… as soon as I made that decision that I was happy, that I loved myself, it didn't matter what anyone else thought.”</p><p> </p><p>Happiness. Loving himself. Those were impossibly distant concepts for Mickey, but William wasn’t done.  </p><p> </p><p>“It was like, "fuck ‘em if they can't deal with it." I'm gay. I've always been gay, and I always will be gay.”</p><p> </p><p>Mickey knew then he wasn’t as strong or as brave as William. He could never be gay, not outside this shitty motel room. But at least William could be. “Y’think I'm like- like how you are?” <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/de2e52f278be4f8f88ff5a2e1c12d040/tumblr_ml8lxlrXPq1qatuw0o6_250.gifv"> He relit the cigarette he’d let die </a>, sucking in the smoke and blowing a ring, trying to do one thing right in this whole fucked-up night. The ring disintegrated after a moment. He was still half naked, and William was fully dressed, aside from his sneakers. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>William peered at him carefully, those dark eyes that had first caught Mickey’s attention. “I'm not arrogant enough to pretend to know who you are. You might be like me. You might just be curious. But either way, whatever you are, don't try and cater to other people's ideas of what you should be. You just be you.”</p><p> </p><p>Other people’s ideas. Other people, like Terry. Terry didn’t just have <em> ideas </em>about who Mickey should be, he had a whole manifesto of who Mickey had to be, no exceptions or expansions allowed. </p><p> </p><p>“So, are you,” William asked, voice neutral.</p><p> </p><p>He was gonna make Mickey say it, so he pushed the words out quickly, as nonchalant as he could manage. “What, gay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” William still wasn’t giving him an inch, but there was almost a grin playing over his lips. Almost. </p><p> </p><p>“I don't know. Still trying to figure out if I liked it,” Mickey admitted. </p><p> </p><p>“You wanna give it another shot?” Was he teasing Mickey, or was it a real offer? “Maybe you're a pitcher.” </p><p> </p><p>“Pretty sure I’m fuckin’ not.” <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/0e11224dfee25454bcbe74635e821cae/tumblr_ml8lxlrXPq1qatuw0o1_250.gifv"> Mickey grinned </a>, then acquiesced. They had the motel room for a few more hours at least, and he wasn’t that sore. “Yeah, why not?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>(Present day)</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“You ever see him again, at the club or anything?” Ian’s voice pulled Mickey back into the present, where he was snuggled up against his tall, hot husband in their room, in their bed, far out of reach of his father and his past.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck no. He probably ghosted me cause I- uh, I wasn’t so great a lay those first few times.” He ducked his head, shame pinking his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know about that. I thought you had a certain charm back then.” Ian used a finger to tilt Mickey’s chin up, giving him a light kiss. “Angry and dirty used to get me goin’.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Mickey pressed up, deepening the kiss, taking Ian’s lower lip between his, licking at it until he opened fully. “So what gets you goin’ now?”</p><p> </p><p>“You, Mick. Always you.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>“Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other. ”</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>― Rainer Maria Rilke</em> </b>
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